Seeing
by Juliet DeMarcus
Summary: Post "Selfless," Xander has considered Buffy's words and taken a long, hard look at himself. He's decided there are things he needs to make right. Because sometimes you *can* help. X/A, B/S & X/S friendship kinda way. "Angel" crossover.
1. Realization

Title: Seeing  
Author: Juliet DeMarcus  
Rating: R - just to be safe for future chapters.  
Summary: Post "Selfless," Xander has given some thought to Buffy's words and has taken a long, hard look at himself...he's decided, he has to make some things right. Because sometimes you *can* help. Crossover with "Angel." X/A, B/S... X/S in a slow forming friendship kinda way.   
A/N: I haven't abandoned my other projects. Especially not "Vanilla Suicide." But I had to write this in response to "Selfless" and season 7 so far. It's all been too strong not to write a fanfic response. Please review... feedback is my addiction of choice!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Xander Harris stood, consumed with a sudden uneasiness, outside her apartment door. He knew she probably wasn't ready yet. Not ready to see him. Not ready to talk. He understood what she had told him -- that she needed some time to figure out for herself who she really was. He respected that,...but he wanted to help. Even if he couldn't do much, at least he could be there.   
  
He wanted her to know that he was there. Not for her to cling to, just to be there...to help her figure all this out. To let her know that she did have forgiveness. To show her that he still loved her...even if the words remained unsaid.  
  
It had been four days since Anya offered herself up as a sacrifice to right her past wrongs. Four days since she gave up being a vengeance demon for good. Four days since Xander had to oppose one of his best friends in order to save the woman he loved.   
  
It had all left a strange, entirely unpleasant taste in his mouth. He and Buffy had not talked since that night when he went out after Anya. She had kept herself busy at work and then, he assumed slaying all the new evils popping up all over the Hellmouth. It was fine with him, because quite honestly...he didn't know what to say to her.   
  
For one, he was still hurt that she had so casually come after Anya's life. Just sat right there on her couch and told him she had to kill Anya. Just like that. Like she was telling him she had to go out and pick up something from the store! As if he should be able to just accept it, that she was going after the woman he loved... As if he could *ever* accept that. She had seemed cold -- so much so it chilled him to listen to the way she spoke, to look at the expression or *non-expression* on her face. And he'd wondered for the first time since they had saved Willow from destroying herself and the world, how far Buffy had really come since her struggle with being alive since then.  
  
Then, there was what she'd said to him about her past. Wounds that he suddenly could see were never healed... And not the wounds one would think...  
  
Her words had stung, to say the least. The entire situation made him feel like he was out of his place, being shown...what it was like to be in her shoes. Even as he lashed out at her, accusing her about Spike, he realized how hollow it sounded -- it only made him look more like a hypocrite. Hadn't he tried to kill Spike last year? And not for having killed anybody, but for having slept with Anya...of her free will, after he had left her at the alter. Hadn't his excuse for that been that Spike was a demon?  
  
Xander took a deep breath. The regret and confusion swimming around him was palpable. And all he wanted to do was push it away...   
But he couldn't.  
  
  
He would never forget how it had felt then... Anger, desperation, fear, loss...all of it, in that moment of learning what Anya had done... That she really *had* gone back to vengeance... She had killed, ten...twelve people. Brought about a spider thing to rip their hearts out as they screamed... It was too much. First, Willow...then this.   
  
And all he could feel towards Buffy was indignation while she sat there, so calmly telling him "I have to kill Anya." The words scorched into his chest, made it hard to breathe. Cause he knew she meant it. But how could she *kill Anya*?! Anya had been there the whole time, she'd stayed during the fight with Glory, she'd helped them in the past and *he still loved her!* How could Buffy even think of taking her away...  
  
Spike -- that had to be different. She didn't save him because she loved him. Right? But still, it didn't set well.   
  
He couldn't seem to find as much to pull from his arguments of the past...maybe it was knowing that Buffy was now using those same arguments, against Anya, against his heart.   
  
  
That night, after he went home. He lay in bed, trying to not picture the blood on the walls, not to picture Anya's face -- her agony as Hallie was destroyed. And he tried not to think of the confrontation with Buffy. But he heard the words in his head despite all his best efforts not to.  
  
"Willow was different. She's a human. Anya's a demon."  
  
"And you're the slayer. I see now how it's all very simple."  
  
"It is never simple."  
  
"No, of course not. You know, if there's a mass murdering demon that you're, oh say, *boning*, then it's all gray area."  
  
"Spike was harmless! He was helping!"  
  
"He had no choice!"  
  
"And Anya did! She *chose* to become a demon. *Twice.*  
  
"You have no idea what she's going through!"  
  
"I don't care what she's going through!"  
  
"Oh, of course not. You think we haven't all seen this before? The part where you just cut us all out, just step away from everything human and act like you're the law. If you knew what I felt--"  
  
"I killed Angel!," that moment, the look in her eyes as she spoke those words... He was stunned into silence, despite his desperate churning emotions for Anya or maybe even because of them... He went back to that time... he remembered, and suddenly he felt sick. Feeling this burning, debilitating taste of what it was like to be standing in her place...because that's what he was doing, wasn't it? Standing in her place?  
  
'This is how it feels...,' a voice inside him somewhere chanted and he pushed it away with all the strength he had. He had to think about Anya...how to save her. The past was past... "Do you even remember that?," she continued, tears in her voice and her eyes, looking so broken that he had to force himself not to turn away. He grappled for words, but he was entranced by this pain...these gushing wounds opening up right before him.   
  
And now the situation was reversed. He could lose the one he loved... He could lose Anya... And Buffy -- she'd already been there...and then some. So what could he possibly say?   
  
"I would've given up everything I had to be with...," she tailed off a moment, lost in the grief that seemed suddenly, shockingly fresh. "I loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life and I put a sword through his heart because I had to."  
  
The intensity left by both the fury and the sorrow of her voice was interrupted by Willow, trying to make things better... Poor Willow...she had always been caught in the middle of these arguments.  
  
"And that all worked out okay," she tried to make her voice light but it was heavy with trepidation. Because, really...*had it turned out all right?*  
  
"Do you remember cheering me on? Both of you." Buffy's accusing glare switched to Willow a moment and Xander caught Willow's pained confused look in response. He felt a new wave of guilt washing over him. "Do you remember giving me Willow's message, 'kick his ass'."   
  
"I never said that!," Willow cried, her eyes all angry accusation pointed right at him. He wondered if Buffy had already realized that he had made that up...or if she'd just found out as Willow responded... God, he really did that...  
  
"That was different." He tried weakly. It wasn't as if she could have chose *not* to put a sword through his heart...she had to, to keep the world from being sucked into hell.  
  
"It is always different! It's always complicated and at some point someone has to draw that line and that is always going to be me! You - you get down on me for cutting myself off, but in the end, the Slayer is always cut off. There's no mystical guidebook, no all-knowing council. Human rules don't apply. There's only me. I am the law."  
  
He didn't know what to say. Everything she was saying made this horrible kind of sense to him. He was struck in a million directions by his own previous arguments towards Angel and Spike. What was he going to say to this? But he had to say something, had to stop this... Had to save Anya.  
  
"There has to be another way."  
  
"Then please, find it." She'd given him that, at least. Some part of him, deep down, sadly acknowledged it was more than he'd ever given her. He retreated in a mixture of fear, anger, sadness and shame, off to find a way to save the woman that he had nearly destroyed.  
  
  
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It *had* worked out okay, like Willow had said...as okay as anything had ever worked out for them. Anya was alive...a vengeance demon no longer. She had offered her own life to reverse the wish that had led to the fraternity boys deaths. But she was hurting. A lot. And she was likely to be hurting for a long time.   
  
He knew sometimes you just couldn't help -- he'd gotten that. But he *needed* to. He felt like he'd done so many things wrong. With Anya. With Willow. With Buffy. He had to try to make some of it right.   
  
  
So now, four days later...he found himself standing at Anya's apartment door. Trying to figure out what to say if she actually opened up to him. He owed her the truth...after everything she'd been through he knew she deserved that from him. She had all along. And he had told her the truth...in that he was sorry. But there was so much more to it than that. Perhaps, she wouldn't have been so hurt, she wouldn't have gone back to vengeance, if she had known... the truth. She wouldn't have had to think that it was her, that he'd never really loved her. But the truth was hard, jagged and he was still as he stood there, ready to confront it, trying to imagine what words could convey his meaning.   
  
Anya had never been anything but honest with him. And in return he had hidden things, kept things, covered over his own issues with jokes.   
  
Anya was right -- about so many things. He really did just see what he wanted to see. He realized that now...with her, with his past, with Buffy. It was time to change it. It was time to see...even the things he didn't want to.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC... 


	2. Admissions

Title: Seeing  
Author: Juliet DeMarcus  
Rating: R - just to be safe for future chapters.  
Summary: Post "Selfless," Xander has given some thought to Buffy's words and has taken a long, hard look at himself...he's decided, he has to make some things right. Because sometimes you *can* help. Crossover with "Angel." X/A, B/S... X/S in a slow forming friendship kinda way. Please review... feedback is my addiction of choice!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Xander," her voice sounded weak, sad...a little surprised as she stared at him from the other side of the open door. Lost for a moment in his gaze, so filled with compassion,... love. He'd come to see her. And despite all the pain she felt and however much she knew she should turn him away, she couldn't...her heart was fluttering, in that wonderful way it did only with him. She couldn't lose that, not now. Not when everything had seemed so dark.  
  
"Hey," he smiled, that goofy Xander grin, but his eyes held anxiety. "I know you might not want me here now, but I just wanted to check in on you and maybe --"  
  
"No," she interrupted suddenly. Half smiling then at their awkwardness she continued. "I mean, no, I *don't* mind you being here. It - It would be really nice to have some company."   
  
Xander smiled more fully at this, and she smiled back. Nothing of what had happened between them, nothing of what she had become, none of it had deadened the feelings she had towards this man. And she doubted anything ever would. She sighed, wondering how she should feel about that...   
  
"So..., you think maybe I could come in a while? Just to talk a while."  
  
As she looked up at him he noticed for the first time how red and bloodshot her eyes looked and there were tear tracks all down her face, messing up her light make up. She had dark circles too...hadn't been sleeping.   
  
He found himself wondering what she did on those nights she couldn't sleep... Before when she was unable to drift off they would play word games, or Anya would give him one of those quizzes out of Cosmo or some other women's magazine, after the incident with Sweet she had even managed to get him to sing to her sometimes though no one else would ever, EVER hear of that...then, of course, there were the *other* things they did when she couldn't sleep.  
  
"Sure. Um, come in." She stepped aside and he made his way into the apartment, taking everything in. It was smaller than their apartment..., now his apartment alone. But it was nice -- modern and plenty of room for one person.   
  
"This is a really great place," he said walking around the main room and taking everything in appreciatively. She half smiled in response, looking around herself a moment.  
  
"Yes," she answered with faux enthusiasm and a broad forced smile that would've done the Buffybot proud, but it faded quickly. "It's nothing like our apartment -- your apartment...but I believe I have decorated it adequately. It is my own space. I've been doing some reading about finding myself and it said that was very important, having your own space. So I did. I made it mine."  
  
He smiled. For all the times he'd told her that she was speaking too bluntly, too literally, too honestly...now he found he couldn't think of anything he missed more than just listening to her talk.  
  
"Sounds like a good plan. I like it. Homey. Feels like you..." They both looked down, away from each other. "I guess a place just doesn't feel like home anymore unless it feels like you're there." She looked up at him then and he saw the struggle inside her, between happiness at his words and feeling that she wasn't worthy of them.  
  
"Why are you being so nice to me, Xander?"  
  
"I'm not. I'm just being honest."  
  
"But you came here to help me and you are saying nice things. I don't deserve it."  
  
"Who says? Besides, I probably came here as much to get help as to give it."  
  
She scoffed, walking over to the table in the dining area and sitting down. He followed suit and sat down across from her. "As if I could help anybody."  
  
"You do. You helped me all the time. And when Willow went dark magic on us, you helped then too... You helped Giles with the Magic Box. You help a lot of people."  
  
She didn't speak for a long time. Just staring at him...taking him in, feeling the love for him swell in her chest. She wanted to cry, she wanted to declare her love, beg for forgiveness... but instead she just looked down at the surface of the table, running her fingers across it absently. When she spoke again, it was so quietly that Xander nearly missed it.  
  
"Not anymore. Now all I do is hurt people."  
  
"No -- you gave that up. You even offered yourself to make up for it. You have to start forgiving yourself... Those guys, they are alive now --"  
  
"Only because Hallie is dead! My *friend*," seeing Xander open his mouth to speak she put a hand up to stop him. "I know, she was a vengeance demon but so was I! And I was the one who made a mistake! I was the one who wanted to take it back. I should be the one who is dead!," she shook her head, a couple tears falling from her eyes and quickly down her face. "And those guys aren't the only ones that were dead...or hurt, sometimes it's worse to be hurt than dead... Just because I offered to take one wish back doesn't undo everything I've done for centuries... Xander, you hate Spike for what he's done in the past, because he's a demon and because he's killed people... Don't you?" She looked up into his face with desperation, silent tears streaming down her face. He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He had talked, or ranted to her too many times about his hatred of Spike to honestly deny it.  
  
"I know you do," she continued sadly. "You've said it a million times. But Xander what do you think *I* am? Spike's not even two hundred years old...I'm over a thousand. What Spike's done is nothing compared to my past. So, how can you be here now... how can you still care?"   
  
Everything she said made sense, though he'd never before really considered it in that context. The implications began to set in...and for a moment, he was stricken. Then he found himself staring into her imploring eyes, and he had no trouble finding his reason.  
  
"Anya... I - I love you. It doesn't matter about anything else. I know that you've changed...*I know*. You proved it the other night when you offered your life for those guys. Besides, you're not the only one whose made mistakes here. I know that I act like... like I'm above the wrong, but what I've done is wrong too. I hurt you, so much...I realize that and I swear I would do anything to take it back. Vengeance was all you knew...and I forced you back into that because of how I treated you. You deserved better than that. Better than what I gave you."  
  
She sobbed softly. "Xander, what I've done..."  
  
"We'll get through it. We'll get through it together."  
  
  
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"We'll get through this together... It's going to be okay..."  
  
"No it's not! You can't fool me anymore...I know you're not real! You're trying to make me crazy." He laughed then, insane, hysterical laughter filling the basement with disturbing echoes. "More crazy. You're trying to make me...fall..."  
  
"Shhhh...," Buffy's soft voice shushed him and she stroked the side of his face with her tiny hand. He looked up into her face. She looked so real...but he knew -- simply by the way she treated him that she was not. He had to keep it straight in his mind, what was real and what was not...before...  
  
"You're fighting so hard. I can help you, Spike. Just let go... don't you want to let go for a while. Rest. Quit fighting with the dark. It's you. I accept that. I'm here with you, aren't I? We belong in the dark, here, together."  
  
Spike looked up at her, haunted by something familiar in her words. He had told Buffy she belonged in the dark, with him -- God, what a liar he was! He had hurt her, isolated her from her friends...just another thing...  
  
"If you let go, it will all be better. I don't want you to hurt anymore, Spike."  
  
"It will be like it was with Dru," Spike's head snapped up at the new voice and searched desperately for the Buffy that had been there moments before, but she was gone. Instead, standing several feet away stood Angelus, infuriating smirk plastered on his face. "Dru fought at first...she tried to resist the loss of her guilt, her pain...," he spoke slowly, seductively as he walked over to where Spike was in the corner. He brushed his had gently across his face and Spike shuttered. "But really what's the point? After she let go and finally lost it, she was much happier. Someone should've killed her family sooner." He laughed, Spike felt sick. Angelus grabbed Spike savagely by his hair and pulling his head back to look him directly in the face. "And unless you get with the program soon," he ground out, "someone's going to have to kill yours."  
  
  
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He had held her hand while she cried. Patiently, until she stopped. Just wanting her to know, he was there. He had reached out and carefully wiped the tears off her face, not wanting to move too close, not wanting to scare her away from this moment. There was something he still needed to do.  
  
"Anya, there's still something I need to tell you," she looked up at him. And he was relieved to see that she was no longer crying.  
  
"What it is it?," she asked in a quiet, curious voice. He swallowed, this was it.  
  
"I - I need to tell you why I left you that day... on our wedding day."  
  
"No Xander, you were right. That excuse quit working. And you've told me already all you can that you were sorry."  
  
"No, not just that. I want to tell you why... I never told you why." She looked extremely curious about this. She tilted her head slightly as she studied him.  
  
"Was it because you wanted someone better? Someone who wasn't a troll boinking, alarmingly literal, vengeance demon?"  
  
Xander's eyes widened at her words, though they were not spoken in a mean or bitter tone. She was really curious.   
  
"Or was it because I wasn't a hero... I mean, I try to help ... But I'm not Buffy. Or Willow even. I just... And maybe I liked money too much and was always too literal and--"  
  
"No. This isn't about Buffy or Willow...and you being literal? Just another thing about you I love..., and hey, money ain't too bad either." He grinned, reaching out and taking her hand again and squeezing it in his own before turning more serious. "It was *nothing* to do with you."  
  
"Yeah right... that's what they all say."  
  
"Anya, it was about me. It was,... I was afraid."  
  
She blinked in surprise, looking genuinely interested. "Afraid of what?"  
  
Xander exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Looking up at the ceiling, suddenly finding it very interesting.  
  
"Life... How things would turn out in five years, or ten...Becoming my father."  
  
Anya's brow furrowed. He waited. Quiet permeated the room, so finally he looked up, trying to gage her reaction. She studied his face intently and he resisted the urge to squirm.   
  
"Becoming your father?," she asked in confusion, clearly not understanding. "You mean,... you thought I was going to turn you into a clone of your father?"  
  
Now it was Xander's turn to be confused.   
  
"Huh?... No, no... I don't mean... It's just,..." he looked down again. Finding the words were even harder now than all those times he had practiced it in his head -- what a waste of time *that* had been. "My father...we didn't...he's not exactly a nice guy." '*Duh...*,' Xander and Anya both thought in frustration.   
  
'Way to go with the understatement. Nice explaining skills there Xan...' He shut up his taunting mind and ventured another look at Anya. Her expression was open, patient.   
  
Anya was holding back her frustration, her eagerness to understand what he meant. She knew his father was an unpleasant, selfish man who made passes at her on every occasion she had ever met him. But she still didn't understand this... She knew it was hard for him. She knew he covered things, always had and not just with her, with everybody. All his fears and insecurities hidden behind witty remarks and Xander-style humor. To reveal what was inside himself...was something so hard for him that in fact, he'd never done it...yet now he was trying, for her. She would wait there all day...even into tomorrow, if she had to.   
  
He was relived. He could read the concern in her eyes, not judgment, not impatience, not even anger...just concern, patience, love -- he could feel it, and suddenly he found himself unable to look away, the words just spilling out..  
  
"He's always been...a drunk, basically. He starting beating my mom when I was young...when I was six or so... Seems like forever. They would fight all the time...a lot about money, a lot about drinking, a lot about me,... and after awhile the fighting would become him hitting her. It - He just got so bad when he was drunk that sometimes he would hit me too."  
  
Anya took an involuntary gulp of air. Her eyes wide, her heart pounding. After all her experience...she had known he was a womanizer, a rude man who often fought with his wife,... but she hadn't realized how bad it was. 'I should have known... I should have recognized it.'  
  
Xander drew in a slow breath, feeling humiliated. He'd never told anyone about this, not even Willow. Neither had his mother. They had both lived in utter silence about the incidents, even when it came to each other. It had been easier that way. Easier to pretend it never happened...until the next time.  
  
"He always hated us," his voice was trembling now and he despised the sound of it -- but he had to do this, had to finish. "I don't know why he didn't just leave us. Run off with one of his ... women he had on the side that he didn't care that we knew about...But I guess that wouldn't have hurt enough..."  
  
"Xander..." Anya breathed, new tears falling from her eyes now. But no longer tears for her, no longer even tears for what she had done...but tears for him, the part of him that even she had never known. "Oh Xander..."   
  
Her voice broke him and he began to cry. "God, I wish he'd just left. Or died. I shouldn't wish that... he's my dad, no - no matter what he's done. But I hate him. I wished him dead..." Suddenly he froze, his tearful eyes wide as his head jerked up to look at Anya with a mixture of anticipation and horror, forgetting for the moment--  
  
"It's okay, Xander," she smiled a soft, sad smile at him. "Not my job to grant wishes anymore,...remember?" Through his tears he managed a sheepish grin, feeling silly that he'd been so alarmed. After all, the loss of her powers had been the reason, in a roundabout way, for him being there in the first place. "I'm sorry...," he whispered.  
  
"It's okay. I haven't *not* been a demon for long--"  
  
"No. I mean about before. I should have told you..." She looked at him in surprise. The look on his face breaking her heart. She was overcome, tears spilling over, she could find no words to say. So she did the only thing she could. She flew at him giving him a fierce hug. Wrapping their arms around each other and holding on for dear life, they stayed there, and just cried.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC... 


	3. Confrontation

Title: Seeing  
Author: Juliet DeMarcus  
Rating: R - just to be safe for future chapters.  
Summary: Post "Selfless," Xander has given some thought to Buffy's words and has taken a long, hard look at himself...he's decided, he has to make some things right. Because sometimes you *can* help. Crossover with "Angel." X/A, B/S... X/S in a slow forming friendship kinda way. Please review... feedback is my addiction of choice!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy slammed her fist into the punching bag, feeling a burst of combative energy surge through her. Ah, training... She'd so needed this. It had been some time because of how busy she'd been with her new counseling job and keeping Dawn in good standing as a student was yet another full time job, then there was trying to help Willow get back into the swing of things, not to mention slaying. Pounding into the bag repeatedly she kept going over what had happened a few days ago, letting the still present anger wash over her and give her more of the fire she needed.   
  
Funny, how something that had been there for so long, under the surface, once spoken aloud had changed everything. It was strange how fresh the old battle wounds suddenly seemed...ones from long before her resurrection against her will, ones even before the loss of her mother and fighting for the life of her sister.   
  
She didn't even know where it had all come from... She just knew that she had felt such a sense of frustration, sitting there arguing with Xander over what Anya had done and her fate. And slowly that frustration built into something else -- something that had lingered in the darkest confines of her heart and mind since...the day she ran Angel through with a sword, over four years ago.  
  
It would be five years ago, soon -- and yet, the thought of it still made her stomach twist up in knots, still made it hard to breathe...  
  
And Xander had the nerve to insinuate that *she* didn't understand, that this was all *easy* for her! *Easy!?* Did he even know her at all? Know the daily struggles she faced? The things that she had to contemplate. She had to make the hard choices all the time, but of course Xander never cared, nor apparently even noticed because until Anya the situation had never inconvenienced *him.* He was the one who had never understood.   
  
Punch. Punch. Punch.   
  
'And now he suddenly finds himself on the other side of the moral divider, and he *still* thinks he's right...even when he's standing on the opposite side. Well, sorry Xander, you can't always be right. You've got to pick one!' Her thoughts screamed the words to an imaginary Xander as the punching bag fell to the ground, unable to withstand the brutality of her abuse any longer.  
  
  
  
Xander walked tentatively down the steps to Buffy's basement. He could hear the distinct sounds of pummeling coming from below and he hoped that it wasn't some demon she was contending with. He really needed to talk to her. He also hoped she wasn't down there beating the stuffings out of some dummy version of himself...because *that* would be even less of the good.  
  
He reached the bottom of the stairs right as the punching bag went flying. Sensing him she spun around.  
  
He had been prepared for her to be withdrawn, quiet -- much like she had often been since they had brought her back from the dead, but what he had *not* expected was the glare he now found himself receiving. She wasn't withdrawn, most definitely...she was...angry. 'Yep, that's her angry face all right...Ok, Xander...approach with caution...'  
  
He took a couple careful steps forward, trying his best to look cheerful but the expression came out somewhere between a smile and a grimace.   
"Heya Buff. Doin' some training?"  
  
"Yeah," she answered flatly. "What's going on? Is some new evil up for me to slay?" These questions were not spoken with concern, but instead a strange, purposeful detachment, as if she were trying to get the point across at exactly how much she did *not* care for him right now.   
  
'Point taken.'  
  
"Um, no, not really. Anya and I talked."  
  
Buffy nodded her head once in acknowledgment, her mouth set in a thin straight line.   
"That's good."   
  
"She asked about you... Told me, that maybe I should check in on you."  
  
Buffy looked a little surprised at this and the hard look on her face let up a bit. She couldn't help but be touched by concern coming from Anya, considering that a few days ago she had nearly killed her.  
  
"I think she's afraid that because of what happened, with her, and then you going to slay her and all...I think she's afraid that it would hurt our friendship. She doesn't want that...and, for the record neither do I."  
  
He watched her, anticipating... But she didn't react, she wasn't even looking at him. Instead she was staring off to the side of the room where the punching bag had fallen.  
  
Xander swallowed and started again.  
  
"Buffy, about...what was said... About Angel. I - ... How long... I mean, did you know about what I told you Willow said...before? Is that why you brought it up?"  
  
Buffy looked up at him, confusion written all over her face. 'Uh-oh, it's the bitchy confusion face,' Xander thought with dread. '...This isn't going to be go-'  
  
"Exactly how stupid do you think I am Xander?" Despite all he had expected, he was startled by the venom dripping from her words. "It didn't take much figuring out. After it was over,...I knew Willow must've done the spell to restore Angel's soul again. I remembered your hesitation outside the mansion when you gave me her message. You always hated him, hated us being together. I knew you lied to me about it. Not much deduction required."  
  
How come he hadn't realized this was going to be so hard? He felt like he couldn't get a breath. She had paused a moment, but then, still glaring daggers at him, eyes shimmering, she continued.  
  
"And I came back home...and instead of telling me the truth. You all came down on me with this big intervention. You never told me... Not even after you knew what happened." The part of him who liked to avoid situations like this...and that was a pretty big part, wanted to run, at hearing the pain in her voice. But he stood his ground.  
  
"Buffy, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I just-"   
  
"I mean, do you even *know* what that did to me!? Do you know what an effect it could have had if you'd *told me the truth*?," she demanded, tearing up further as she took one step towards him. He flinched at the words, at the tears in her eyes, at the implications of the events his actions, or his words, may have helped bring about over four years ago.  
  
"You never even thought about it did you? You just forgot... While Angel went to hell and me with him, in a way... I died inside, when I killed him and that part of me won't *ever* come back. And after what you'd done...I just let it go... Whereas you were all over me about leaving Sunnydale, then about trying to take care of Angel when he came back from being tormented for... You should've been apologizing to him, to me...for what you did to us." She sobbed and Xander felt tears begin to stream down his own face. "But you didn't did you? Never a word, not to him, not to me... You just forgot. Went on with your life. Living it just how you wanted. See, that's a luxury a slayer with a group of great moral lifeguards as friends doesn't get to take."  
  
"Buffy, that's not fair," he said hoarsely.  
  
"Isn't it?," she demanded, under her gaze, he felt like his insides were burning. "You bring up *me and Spike* all the time, judging me...well, how about you and Anya... You shacked up with her and not only did I let you have your chance to be happy, but I was her *friend!* I was one of her bridesmaids the day you stood her up. Remember?"  
  
"That's different!," his voice raised this time, feeling a little self-righteous anger in him rising at her bringing Anya into it again. She had tried to kill Anya -- shouldn't he be the one that was upset? He hadn't tried to kill Angel had he?  
  
"Again! With the different. *How* exactly is it different, Xander?"  
  
His mouth opened and closed, several times...like a fish suddenly finding itself on land. And in fact, this was a new environment for him and he was finding it damn near impossible to adjust. He desperately sought an answer to Buffy's question, but he was confused. Anya and Spike were completely different. And yet,... all he could think of now was what Anya had told him the day before...about how she had committed far more wrongs in her past than Spike had...but... He couldn't think of anything to go after the 'but.' He definitely didn't like the way this was going.   
  
Before he found his answer Buffy continued, unable to stop what was spilling out of her.  
  
"It's not different. Only, if Anya went on a killing spree and it was up to you, even if she were about to end the world you'd just let it slide. You can't make those kind of choices. But you're always ready to look down on me if you think I make the wrong one. And when is it wrong? Well, it's wrong if it's someone *you* don't care about. "He's a vampire... 'kick his ass.' No matter if he's the love of your life. Kill him, and take my blessings,"" she mocked. "Or how about "Buffy, he's an evil disgusting thing. Who cares if he was tortured for your sister or that he was your friend when all your *other* friends didn't even know who you were anymore...who cares that he loves you. Just dust the evil soulless thing that saves us every other day, already!'"  
  
"Buffy, how long have you been holding all this in? Buffy, you should've told me, maybe I could've tried to..."  
  
"To what? Make it right? You can't make it right...not unless you want to go get Willow to cast a spell and take us back to the past so you can try *not* lying to me and see how things might have turned out. Not unless you want to go back and *try* to put yourself in my shoes instead of attacking me all the time, making me feel like..." She trailed off, looking stricken and put her hand over her mouth. A tortured whimper making it's way out.  
  
"Buffy, I-I know,... I know I can't make what I've done right. I know I was wrong about how I treated you with the whole Angel thing. I get that. But he was *ending the world*. And Buffy...are you forgetting that Spike tried to rape you?," he asked the question gently and was met by another furious look. He rushed on. "All I'm trying to say is, that I'm your *friend*, Buffy...and able to make it right or not... I just wish you would let me know these things. I mean all this time and -"  
  
"You want to *know*!?," she exploded. "Well, great, how about this? You said Spike didn't have a choice and you're right, he didn't. He didn't have a choice to become what he did. Vampires drain you and they turn you, they don't explain it to you and ask if you want the job of being a soulless killer, like they do with vengeance demons. And yes, he was evil, he did horrible things and when that changed he didn't have a choice. The chip took that away from him. But do you think *Anya* had a choice!? In the beginning do you think she gave up her vengeance demon status willingly!? No! She screwed up. While she was here to wreak vengeance on *you* for Cordelia, she screwed up."  
  
Xander resisted the urge to wince and tried to cut in. "But she *chose* the other day, Buffy. She-"  
  
"...And this summer while she was *choosing* to become a vengeance demon *again*, after not only you but *I*, *all of us* welcomed her with open arms, never once mentioning or even wondering about all the damage she'd done over the past, say, thousand years or so, *Spike*, who we've all hated, who we've all used, who we've all rejected went off and *chose* to get his soul!"  
  
Xander stopped, mouth still open, poised to say a word, now forgotten. His eyes went wide, staring into Buffy's tear-stained face as she now crumbled, sitting down on the hard cement floor and burying her head in her drawn up knees she began to sob.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC... 


End file.
